Dear Roald Dahl,

It was my eighth birthday and a wrapped package the size of a shoebox lay quietly on my bed. I poked and prodded, gave it a good shake, then slid one finger below the tape and ripped apart the wrapping paper.

I was shocked to find a stack of novels, each brightly colored and illustrated with sharp, pointed noses and stringy hair. My parents had given me a golden ticket to a factory of over-the-top adventures and the best childhood heroes.

Some days, I wanted to glue my nosy neighbors to the ceiling and on others, I memorized the exact ingredients of George’s marvelous medicine. Danny taught me what “poaching” was and all I wanted to do that summer was travel the world in my own giant peach.

But Matilda? She stole my heart faster than she pored over her books. Filled with hope and a sense of wonder, she made me believe that we could all stand up to the Miss Trunchbulls in our lives, telekinesis or not.

With your stories, you took us on adventures that tickled our funny bones: the evil were taught lessons with thinly veiled irony and our favorite characters always found their happy ending.

These are books that crawled into my heart and stuck with me long after childhood. I hope more little girls stumble upon the magic within their pages, and find in them a companion for lonely nights and long bus rides.

A 90s kid

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s